Chet and April Fool's Day
by Dabbled-at-Euchre
Summary: A-Shift works the night of March 31/April Fool's day. Chet had high hopes for that night. Set near end of season 2. References episode 2x09 "Women." One-shot.


March 31, 1973-

The classic approach is to be friendly to your pigeon. It wouldn't have worked. Gage knew me too well for what I am. He'd have known I was up to something.

I wonder if it would be a good bluff. Be a super friend to him sometime, just to disconcert him, then do ABSOLUTLY NOTHING and see how much I can get in his head?

I'll try to remember that idea, but that night I was up to something. So just to relax Gage, I eased up on my outgoingness a hair, acting like I had something on my mind.

The phone rang. Gage jumped up and got it. I wondered who he was hoping to hear from? "Station 51. John Gage speaking… No ma'am we no longer get cats out of trees… Yes, ma'am I realize you pay taxes… Ah, ma'am they come down when they're ready… MA'AM, have you EVER seen a cat skeleton in a tree? EVER? … Yes, and a GOOD DAY to you too."

I smiled as I hear how riled up someone's gotten him. He looked at me suspicious, but I had nothing to do with it.

To properly celebrate the holiday my masterstroke should come after midnight. So, I waited patiently. We went on one false alarm, one traffic accident (not too bloody. The sports car was a total wreck though. A waste.) We also went on one trash fire without the squad along. It was probably some homeless person that set the trash on fire, but that was long before we arrived.

Without us, the squad went on three runs. A boy with his arm stuck in a sewer drain, an allergic reaction and a man winged his leg cleaning a .22 caliber rifle. John and Roy came back from all of them as if it's just another day at the office.

One by one, we drifted off to bed after the 10:00 news. Part of me was worrying. But part of me trusted Saturday nights. There's usually something. I reminded myself to get up even if the Squad left without us

()()()

The tones went off. We all got up. "Station 51, Station 11, Engine 91, Battalion 14. House fire. 3819 Hoosier. Cross street Abigail. Time out, 0119."

The Captain acknowledged. Mike and Roy took a good look at the map. Then we were off. The excitement of the call and the lights and sirens woke me up, as usual.

It's a two-minute drive before Mike starts to slow down. The Captain rolled down his window. He sniffed as we rode, then ordered "Marco! Make the hydrant."

Mike stops while Marco hoped off, then we glide forward again. I silently grinned. That made me the first in nozzle man. The premier spot. Having the nozzle on an actual fire is better than getting Gage. Better than a lot of the dates I've been on even.

Meanwhile, Cap announced "L. A. Station 51 on scene.

A voice responded. "Station 51 on scene 0114.

I put on my breathing gear as Roy and John did likewise. Mike put the rig in pumping gear and went to the panel on the side of the rig near the house (passenger side.) Cap got out and looked at the house giving it a good size up. It was dark out but the lights from our rig lit it up a little as did the flashlight Cap shined.

He told the radio. "Three story house. Smoke showing from the top floor."

A woman ran out of the house. "Help! Help! My baby's in there. I can't move her!"

Cap turned to John and Roy. "You guys get the baby." They nodded and rushed in. Cap told the radio. "L. A. Engine 51, send an ambulance to our location."

The woman was suspiciously old and frail to have a "baby." Meanwhile Cap grabbed his breathing gear and told me "Grab two lengths of the inch and a half."

Sure, enough as we get near the top, we passed John and Roy coming down with what seemed at a glance to be a 250-pound woman.

Up in the attic, the smoke was thick. We came in off the stairs on our hands and knees. Like we're in combat. In a way, of course, we were in combat.

I inched forward, the heat was not bad down there, but couldn't I find the fire. The line was charged heavy with water, but I kept the nozzle closed.

Cap ducked back on the stairs and eased off his mask. "Engine 51 portable to Engine 51. I need the front windows ventilated pronto!"

Verticle ventilation is the classic approach. But horizontal ventilation can work too, and breaking windows is faster then sawing holes in the roof.

When it comes to firefighting, even I can learn big words.

In a minute the smoke and heat began to ease. Then the flames grew fed by the fresh oxygen. You would think that's a bad thing and it would be, except we don't ventilate till we have a hose line ready. Once I had an idea where they were, I approached slowly, first spraying above the flames to "rain" on them, then as I closed in, I blasted them direct.

When I played football in High School, I was an outside linebacker and on special teams. I only scored one touchdown off a fumble. But tonight, with the hose, I scored a bigger one as I kicked the fire's butt!

I heard sirens and looked outside. Two engines, a ladder and a battalion chief arrived. Just in time to do our mop-up work.

Soon I was outside, recharging from a water jug we had stashed on the rig. I saw a bunch of neighbors watching, mostly in pajamas and bath robes. Since the inside of the attic wasn't well displayed, a lot of them watched John and Roy work over the victim. Then they turned and looked as an ambulance glided in.

Roy was telling the biophone "Rampart, patient is starting to breath on her own. Ambulance is now on scene." The ambulance crew brought their stretcher and the four of them got the patient in the rig. John hoped in with her and they went to wake up more people, charging off with the siren on. Roy got on the squad and followed.

()()()

We finished the overhaul and got back to the station just after 2 AM. Squad was still out. I went to my locker and got the four empty pop cans I'd brought in from home. Then I began placing one under each leg of Gage's bed.

Mike said "Chet. What?"

I explained. "This is classic. He gets in bed in the dark. It balances well enough that he thinks he's safe then… Ka Thud! Happy April Fool's day."

Only I was having trouble balancing the bed on the cans. Mike and Marco, in their undershorts and t-shirts, lifted the bed so I could get cans right. Then they carefully lowered it.

Some of you may think that seems, well, you know, gay. But I've been sleeping with men in their underwear so long I thought nothing of it.

Soon John and Roy came back, in the dark. They striped to their underwear and go to bed. I waited, careful to breath slow, as if asleep. I waited. I waited.

Tones went off. "Squad 51. Possible OD. Near Vic's Bar, 4219 Holfstad Avenue. Cross street Franklin Pierce Boulevard. Time Out 0318."

Once John and Roy left Mike and I went to the bunk. He complained "It didn't work."

Mystified, I said "It should have worked in 20 minutes at the most. How'd he balance the bed so well?" Meanwhile, I gestured with my right hand and taped the mattress. Too late, a large crash comes as one of the cans caves in.

Cap groaned at us and went back to sleep. Nothing else to do, we lifted the bunk and took the cans away, then put it back as silently as possible. I slipped away and hid the evidence. Then we got some sleep. We needed it.

()()()

In the morning I tried 'taking pictures' with the squirt gun/ fake camera I keep in my locker as a prankster's reserve. But I didn't close the fill hole. The water began to leak on me before I could have Gage smile for the camera and squirt him. I must have been more rattled by my failure last night then I thought. So, I dumped the water and put it back.

Off duty, I even brooded for a day, trying to figure what went wrong. How a pigeon like that could block my trick.

()()()

The next day I snapped out of it. I've seen Gage obsess about some dumb thing or another plenty of times. He gets so bothered, I watch and don't need to mess with him because he's already messing with himself. Sometimes I've even seen Roy or Cap all bothered.

But not me. I reminded myself I'm what they call a child of nature. No failures are going to cause me to dig myself into no mental hole. A guy like me is too dumb to fall for a trap like that.

I spent the day at the beach. Then I bought a pizza and watched TV. Then I got my next idea, but I didn't have a typewriter. So, I carefully wrote it all down on paper, painstakingly going through draft after draft.

()()()

Next shift, we drilled with forcible entry tools and hoses. We cleaned the station. (I did the floors.) We have cheeseburgers for lunch. Only our cheese had gone bad, so we had cheeseburgers with no cheese. We responded to a 5th story apartment building "fire" that was someone stepping out and loosing track of time, burning the casserole. We responded to a messy traffic accident. It was a pick-up truck versus a motorcycle. Bet you can guess who came off worse.

We were in the kitchen, chatting and watching reruns of old shows. John and Roy responded with Engine 80 in the next district because Station 80 didn't have a squad. I saw my chance and asked Cap if I could use the typewriter. He nodded.

()()()

When John and Roy returned, Cap asked "How'd it go?"

John said "Routine OD, not too bad. We started an IV and took her in."

A nearby dog began barking away. I got up. Soon enough the mail arrived. I brought it in.

Cap asks, "Anything official?"

I say "We have a dry-cleaning coupon for Mrs. Occupant. Anyone want to dry clean around here?" I left it on the table and continued "And this one has no return address." I ripped it open before anyone noticed there's no postmark.

I pretended to read to myself, then said "Wow. Cap you'd better read this aloud."

Cap said, "Why not you?"

"With my reputation as a joker no one would believe me."

So, the Captain read out loud. The other guys started out listening. "Dear Station 51 A shift. I thought I'd write you from HQ to warn you, unofficially, about what's coming.

It started with that women's libber we had you host. The reporter, Christy Todd. She showed her report and all her raw photos to the local chapter of the National Organization of Women. One of the secretaries at HQ is a member, but has divided loyalties so she leaked their plan to us.

It seems they decided the department was a good objective for women's lib. However, they realized a more disciplined approach is needed then the approach Christy Todd took of grabbing the hose and trying to extinguish a rubbish fire by herself when the firemen weren't looking. Ms. Todd actually admitted after observing your run to the building damaged by an explosion that a firefighting job requires relevant training. However, they feel women as well as men should be able to undertake the training.

Our particular person of interest in Jonathan Gage. Featured prominently in many of the photos, he is respected as a firefighter and paramedic, by both his station mates and the Emergency Room personnel. While he is not lacking in height, his slight frame and the runner's build he used to run the 440 in high school track show no great upper body strength."

John smiled. Cap continued "The plan is to recruit a few dedicated, athletic women to lift weights for a year, apply to take the department's entry test and when turned down for being women, to hold a press conference and announce their candidates could beat, or at least equal John Gage in an arbitrator designed test of job-relevant strength.

Besides, with his deep sensitivity to patients, clean-shaven boyish good looks and aptitude at fire station housework, they feel Jonathan Gage is not that different from the way the quote sexist pig men in our society regard average women."

The letter continued, but no one read it. Instead, John got up, all angry. First, he checked that Cap was reading an actual typed letter and that he was reading it right.

He then turned to me and shouted "CHET!"

I said "You seem irritable John. It's a time of the month thing, am I right?"

He chased me around that station. Good times.

()()()

A/N-Cynthia Burbee was the first woman in the L. A. County Fire Department, joining in 1983. She eventually made paramedic, then engineer and retired as Captain in 2010. All of the real-life L. A. County firefighters learned to live with it.

A/N #2-Thank you, first reviewer for finding a goof I have corrected.


End file.
